


a whimper and a bang

by Harbinger



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Apocalypse, F/M, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13445574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harbinger/pseuds/Harbinger
Summary: A non-believer's blood brought about the apocalypse. How fitting.He moves; she gasps. She twists; he moans. Reunion is brief; the world is ending, after all.





	a whimper and a bang

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FinnMcSin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinnMcSin/gifts).



> for my roommate, finnmcsin, as it is her birthday! largely based on headcanons she and i have developed over the course of role play. lightly beta'd by my friend sara. feel free to prompt me at [hookisms](http://hookisms.tumblr.com) or my roommate at [finnmcsinn.](http://finnmcsinn.tumblr.com)

The world ends with a whimper and a bang all at once.

In Geneva, a chasm splinters itself open as the blood spills upon the great Machine and there it opens, this great gaping abyss of blackness. Into the world come the demons, howling monsters whose gleaming fangs snap and snarl and clasp themselves around the throats of their victims. 

Humans die screaming - it was what they do. 

The Advocate observes through dispassionate eyes the devastation wrought by his hands and smiles, the work of his life fulfilled in fire and blood and gloom, and when the Adversary takes him, the Advocate goes without complaint.

Thomas Warren screams as he finds himself devoured by the monsters they have unleashed and Daiva Corporation finds its halls awash in the crimson blood of all those who had pledged their time and lives to this great cause. 

The hotel room lacks the elegance normally desired by them. A solitary bed makes for a weak excursion into the schisms of memory; it is not the memorable send-off they desired. Limbs entwine about limbs, hungry maws chase heat and need into flesh, teeth nip at the delicate dermis marred now by the symbols carved into it. 

A non-believer's blood brought about the apocalypse. How fitting.

He moves; she gasps. She twists; he moans. Reunion is brief; the world is ending, after all. 

Soon shadows will slide their way into this safe haven. Curtains block out the tenebrosity without; a lamp blazing bright in the corner without a shade upon it illuminates the room hopelessly, a brief bit of fight against what they know to be the end of everything so soon to come. 

The Axis Mundi has begun to splinter. The end has begun, whether the couple enjoying stolen moments on the bed desire it or not. They will be dead soon, these two lovers brought together by black tapes in a cabinet hidden in an office overlooking a river. Soon, they like many others will be naught but living corpses with eyes of hellish ebony, pupil, iris, sclera swallowed by void.

For now, a tongue twists a motion between lips and she groans. 

Pleasure finds itself chased, like the half-moon crescents of the ghosts of fingernails are chased into palms when fingers clench to fists. No moans are swallowed into pillows or muffled behind hands; they sing their praises to one another in the world's oldest language. 

Love finds itself gasped into an ear, returned into another. She thinks, not for the first time, that they should never have come here. He thinks, not for the first time, that if this is the end of all things, then what an end it should be. 

Without, a scream - the terrible crashing of a building fracturing itself apart as the streets below shudder. Tendrils of living darkness crawl about the alleyways and corridors and those touched by those tentacles of ink find themselves breaking, fracturing, as it corrupts them, mind, body, and soul.

They will not die like that, of course. 

The mantle of the dragon and his chosen consort will die in a different way. These bodies they defile with lust at the last minute of the world's breath will be used for something different indeed.  
Without, the Adversary walks the streets he now owns in a frame familiar to those with the memory to know. 

In another life, in another world, in another anything, they find a way to break this terrible ending, to reset the world, to fix what has been ruined by the Advocate. But that is not this timeline. That is not this life, world, or universe.

In this universe, the last thing Richard Strand sees is the beautiful green eyes of Alex Reagan slowly turning black, the smile of her mouth stretching too wide. 

In this universe, the last thing Alex Reagan sees is the face of the man she loves twisting, convoluting, teeth sharpening to razor fangs and eyes becoming ink. 

In this universe, Richard Strand and Alex Reagan die together, on a bed in Geneva, and their bodies arise with the princes of Hell garbed in their form and raiment, to greet the new dawn of their civilization.


End file.
